


Of Instant Ramen and Newfound Bachelors

by wiildflowers



Category: American Idiot - Green Day/Armstrong
Genre: Drinking, Gen, The Couch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 06:04:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiildflowers/pseuds/wiildflowers
Summary: There was nothing he could've done, he explained to the now-empty apartment, to the now-empty bottle in his hand and his fifth cigarette. Nothing he could've done.





	Of Instant Ramen and Newfound Bachelors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [terracotta_heartbreak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terracotta_heartbreak/gifts).



> This angsty mess is Emily's now because she said she liked it, and she's wonderful, and also because she got me into this fandom in the first place! I love her go check her stuff out it's the best.

**2:37 A.M.**

"What we've got here is a failure to communicate." Strother Martin's disembodied voice drawled from the television screen. Will flipped the channel without a second thought. 

 

The sound of the door still echoed in his mind, the click-click-click of heels steadily walking out following close behind. There was nothing he could've done, he explained to the now-empty apartment, to the now-empty bottle in his hand and his fifth cigarette. Nothing he could've done. 

 

It had come out of nowhere, with the door opening just as quickly as it had eventually shut, but much quieter because of the baby cradled in her arms. _He needs a father_ , she had said. _Someone to be there for him. Someone to look up to._ Will tried to convince her that he could change, tried to convince himself as well. _He could be anything they needed if she just stayed. Reconsidered. He was trying, too._ He had tried to grab some of the dresses going into her bag, hoping against all hope that maybe those little fragments of fabric could change her mind, that _something_ could change her mind. 

 

She left ten minutes later. Will took another swig from a new beer and a quick drag from a cigarette before wolfing down cold noodles and picking up his phone. There had to be some way to make this right again. He dialed her number. Waited. Waited a bit longer. Dialed again. Nothing. Threw his phone to the other side of the couch and leaned so his head was resting on the back of it. Took a few deep breaths and a few more sips of beer. The apartment was eerily quiet in this state, the occasional drip-drip-drdip of rain outside making its way to his ears, but nothing else. Drip-drip-drip. Click-click-click. Another bottle gone, another cigarette smashed into the table near the couch. Oh well.

 

 It was the beginning that mattered, wasn't it? The dream of normalcy, the white-picket-fence life they almost had. In hindsight, Will realized lives like those weren't meant for people like him, buzzed in the dark at two A.M., flipping through the same shows he watched before she had left. 

 

 

**7:58 A.M.**

Will had a headache. The kind that spread in an uncomfortable layer of seared pain over your skull, sinks into your thoughts and makes the lights a bit more blinding. Her felt his heartbeat in his brain, but that was alright because he was coping. In dark blue slippers and a barely presentable tee. But coping doesn't make the headache go away so he stumbled through the aisles, the squeak of his cart creating a heavy ache behind his eyes. Two packs of chips later, Will decides that the six-pack of beer was just more cost-effective.

 

After all, he was coping. Will was coping, and part of coping was saving money, two bags of chips and a six-pack of beer in his cart before he made it to checkout. A woman looked him up and down. She asked if he was okay, he said he was just tired. And he tried to smile. And she tried to smile. 

 

He scurried home not soon after, sunlight streaming through cracks in the blinds by now.  He tossed the crumpled receipt to the floor and made note to get better blinds. _You've done all you had to_ , Heather's voice spat at him from the worn armchair next to the couch, from the place she had spent many a sleepless night. Babies kicked, he soon learned. _You couldn't handle it, anyways_ , her voice sounded from the lamp now, the light suddenly much too bright.

 

The light flickered, dimming and brightening, before shutting off on its own. Will nursed a lukewarm beer.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a 1am rambling and morphed into what it is now (which isn't much better, I need to do a bit more editing). Despite that, any feedback is very appreciated!


End file.
